


Hiding In Plain Sight

by drowninginspace



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Generation Kill Week, M/M, uniform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninginspace/pseuds/drowninginspace
Summary: He likes what the uniform shows.  Or more accurately, what it doesn't show.





	Hiding In Plain Sight

He loves the way the uniform looks on Ray. What it shows, or more accurately, what it doesn’t. If you were to glance at him among all the other men, there wouldn’t be anything remarkable about him. If you listened to him, yes, he would draw you in, but if appearances were considered, he seemed average. That’s what he loved about the uniform. Because only he knew the expanse of the lean and wiry body it concealed, the tattoos that you only got a glimpse of, the scars and marks that littered spanned his back and arms, the light scars on his chest. Ray Person could take down men nearly twice his size and they all knew it. But he was the only one that saw physical proof of that in his body, breathtaking and all his. 

Not that he knew all of that at first. 

In the beginning of Iraq, he’d been just as clueless as the rest of them. Full of rage and anger too, but clueless. Everytime Ray started a rant, he’d roll his eyes and move on, wishing he’d be serious for once.

But it starts to wear down on you and you’ll slowly lose yourself if you aren't careful. Listening to Ray, it became a way to stay grounded in reality, his words holding an unbearable truth behind the strange ramblings. The more he payed attention, the more he found himself silently laughing or shaking his head in amusement.

He also found himself staring at Ray when he entered or left a room, joked with Brad, shoved food in his face. Anywhere, anytime, his eyes were drawn to him, unable to look anywhere else.

He was an intelligent and clear headed guy, had to be to survive the shithole that was the Marine Corps and the testosterone pit that was Bravo. So like any reasonable person, he evaluated his situation and came to the conclusion that he was starting to like Ray Person, for lack of a better word. 

He could have panicked, could have shut down, could have asked for a transfer, anything to stop this from happening. But they were in a war zone and this sudden development wasn't these guys’ fault, so he stayed. He stayed and fell even deeper into the chasm that was Ray Person.

It was inevitable really, because you can't go against human nature. Your mind doesn't choose people based on their gender, or race, or sexuality. It's a match of brains and personality, anything else was stubborn refusal based on your own beliefs and ideas. So Tim let it happen. It was hard enough here without avoiding half the platoon so he wouldn't see Ray. If small glimpses of him were enough to soothe his war weary soul, who was he to complain.

He thought he saw things sometimes, the desert air playing tricks on him. Ray glancing at him for a second too long, eyes following him, jokes especially aimed for him, hands brushing against an arm. It was most likely his imagination though, as small and underutilized as it might be. 

That didn't stop him from using it, though. Late, nights when they could actually sleep or get some rest, he closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to take off his uniform. Day after day, wearing the same clothing for weeks, everything extremely similar. Nothing but the rough outline of the body was revealed (except if you took them off on a hot day), perhaps as much to discourage these exact same thoughts as to protect the body with layers upon layers.

But he liked to imagine it, in a place where they could take their time and have no fear about being interrupted. There was a limit to how much he could fantasize, however. The slightest slip up could mean ruin and with psychos like Trombley around, it wasn’t that far from reality. There was a time and place for things like these and during an invasion in Iraq definitely wasn’t either.

Which is why he he was shocked to hell and back when Ray grabbed his face and guided it to his lips, surprisingly soft for someone living in the desert with 5 weeks of dirt and grime.

It started off with him entering a small tent set up for first aid and other medical emergencies, batting at Brad to let him go. He went on and on about how he was fine and it was just a small cut but one glance at Brad and another at his hand told him that wasn’t the case. Guiding Ray to the makeshift bed and telling Brad he could handle it from here, he went to work. Cleaning the cut, applying disinfectant, sewing it all up, bitching at him all the while. It took his mind off the fact that he was hurt and so close to him, his breathing tickling his neck, causing the hairs to stand on edge.

With the cut stitched up and bandaged, he went to clean up and put his supplies back in their places. When he turned around to grab the scissors, the asshole was lifting his injured arm towards him and the next thing he knew, their lips were on each other, hot and wet and soft and nice. As quickly as it had started ,it ended and after a long period of silence and one glance backwards, Ray left.

They kept coming back to each other, however, now that they knew it was an option. And all those nights Tim had spent dreaming about peeling off that uniform, it was happening right before him. Sort of. It was always quick and heated, clothes half off and not nearly as much time as they’d like. But they took it, because once they were on the move again, this might not happen again. Every meeting might be their last.

This continued all through Iraq and when their deployment ended, he thought that was the end of it. Getting off of the bus at Pendleton and taking a cab home, the first thing he did was strip off the dirty shopper and hop into the shower. As months and months of dirt, sweat, and grime washed off of him, he allowed himself a few moments to mourn the loss of something so unexpected and treasured. For what seemed like a short eternity, the few tears he shed mixed in with the water beating down his face, as if it was cleansing him.

Once he was done, he put on a set of flannel pajamas and settled down for an evening of doing nothing. Just when he was getting comfortable, a knock at the door made him get up. Mentally and verbally cursing whoever dared to disturb his first night back home, Tim flung open the door and took a step back, blinking in surprise.

There, right in front of him, stood Ray motherfucking Person, grinning sheepishly and rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. The words came out of his mouth rapidly, as if he didn’t vomit them right here and right now, Tim would shut the door on his face and never speak to him again. Which he might have been considering, but again, he was a reasonable person.

Tuning into what Ray was saying, the words spitting out of him rapid fire, he tried to make sense of what had happened. Tim had left before Ray could say anything and he spent the majority of the time after hounding Nate and Brad and Gunny for his address, coming here right after. That’s only if he wanted him here of course, he rambled on, a nervous look on his face, the words slowly dying out the longer Tim was silent.

Making a split second decision, deciding his future right now, Tim grabbed Ray and pulled him inside, making his intentions known and giving him enough time to set the pace to what he wanted, if that was what he preferred.

And that was how he came to lay in bed with Ray Person, watching him sleep while tracing patterns on his skin. He’d seen his body before, in Iraq, but he’d never had time to marvel at the beauty of hit, hidden behind a drab uniform like everyone else. Tracing the tattoo on Ray’s bicep and shoulder, usually hidden under a shirt, Tim took some time to soak in that this could last. Ray wasn’t reenlisting but he was. As long as they were careful, they could enjoy this for as long as they wanted. His lips on Ray’s shoulder blades, Tim didn’t try to hide a smirk at the thought of how all this came to be. The uniform might be ugly but it opened a door to a whole new path in life. He can’t say he doesn’t appreciate that right now.


End file.
